Silent Watchers
by Alya Lynn
Summary: It intrigued him to no end, her peculiar manner. Even he slipped once in a while. () She knew he was watching her, she could feel his eyes ...
1. Default Chapter

She hardly ever moved. She didn't twitch or scream or rock back and forth, speaking into the ghostly silence. She merely sat staring out her tiny, barred, window, her un-kept hair cascading down her back. It intrigued him to no end, her peculiar manner. Even he, who had committed himself solely to retaining his sanity, slipped once in a while and let out a strangled sob. But she never did. She just continued to watch the sky as it went from a fiery orange, to a pale pink, to deep purple, and finally to pitch black, dotted with stars. Her stars.  
  
As the years went by he became sure of one thing. She kept her sanity by staring at the stars, counting them, connecting them, and memorizing them. They were her constant and her comfort, if she ever needed one.  
  
He vaguely remembered a conversation he had with her when they were both young, and innocent in the eyes of the world.  
  
"Why do you stare at them like that? Are you waiting for them to speak to you or something?" he had taunted her.  
  
"No you fool," she had answered. "You don't understand what they mean, what they hold. Have you no respect for your namesake?"  
  
Even at the tender age of 10 she possessed an eloquent way of speaking, becoming of her pureblood upbringing.  
  
"Well I'd rather have the moon," he stated confidently. "It's bigger and brighter."  
  
"No it's not," she countered, "it's just closer. Besides the moon controls too much, you could never have it."  
  
She always knew more, had seen more, and her could never prove her wrong.  
  
He thought he had known her once. He thought he could read her, understand her. But realization hit him hard. She was a mystery to him and to all whom her presence had graced. She was beautiful but dangerous, a creature of the night, resigned to a life of darkness and she thrived in it. The darkness of the prison agreed with her. It kept her from the sun, a monster she had desperately tried to keep herself from.  
  
He didn't recognize her when they first brought her in. She had changed so much since their childhood days. It was plain to see that her servitude to the darkness had twisted her, for he never recalled her eyes being that lidded, nor her mouth ever that thin. Hatred lined each feature and radiated off of her like an airborne poison waiting to claim its next victim.  
  
One thing about her that had not changed was her pride. It was indestructible and would never be shattered. She laughed when they closed the door of her cell and called after the guards as they left her at the mercy of the dementors.  
"I'll wait as long as it takes. You'll never break me. I will wait!" and she laughed again. It wasn't a joyous laugh, for he was sure she wasn't capable of that unless a victim had been placed at her feet. Rather it was an insane cackle of one consumed by hate.  
  
But was it hate, he wondered as he continued to watch her stare at the night's sky? Was it really hate that drove her to such lengths? Was it hate that drove her to commit crimes that she showed no visible remorse for? Something inside him kept him from accepting the fact that she could be so wicked, so sadistic. Was is just his imagination, just his inner Gryffindor seeing a false hope of redemption and forgiveness? That must be it he thought as he turned his back on her. For in his mind there were no layers to Bellatrix Lestange. No, she was pure evil and there was no saving her now. 


	2. chapter2

_ She knew he was watching her. She could feel his eyes, the same stormy gray color as her own, boring into her back. But she took no notice of it. She wasn't about to give him the pleasure of knowing that he was irritating her. A sly smile crossed her dry chapped lips. Her damn pride, that's what he always referred to it as. "It's that damn pride of yours that will never let you think for yourself. And it's only going to kill you in the end," he would say. But he was always saying things like that. As always she had an answer for him. Pride and cunning was better that rash action concealed as bravery. _

_ She always found a sick pleasure in proving him wrong and then proceeding to laugh in his face about it. It had always been so easy to get him into trouble when they were young. He was so quick tempered; it only took one remark to set him off. He never did master the art of controlling his emotion. She supposed it was some sort of Gryffindor trait, but then again he was no Malfoy so what did she really expect._

_ The thought of Lucius Malfoy sent hot waves of fury through her veins. How dare he denounce their Lord. How dare he plead and beg the Ministry's forgiveness for the crimes that he had willingly committed. But that didn't matter. He would pay, she knew. And she would be rewarded above all others._

_ She stole a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. Threw the bars of her cell she could see him, huddled in a corner and asleep, as far as she could tell. Quietly she walked to the edge of her cell, grasping the bars with her pale, scarred hands. He was different. She hadn't noticed it at first but now she did. His was thinner and his hair retained none of its once glossy shine. But that wasn't what caught her attention, for those where customary losses upon entering Azkaban. Good looks and a healthy appearance where left at the door. _

_ He wasn't like her, he never was. So why wasn't he screaming? Why wasn't he breaking as so many had before? What made him different? _

_ He wasn't strong, at least not by her standards, and she had always been able to read his every move, but now she couldn't. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what kept him from giving in, and giving up._

_ Innocence was it? Did he really believe that someday a Ministry official would come in, apologize for the terrible misunderstanding, and give him back his life? Was he holding out for that second chance? _

_ Of course she knew the truth. She knew he wasn't responsible. His plan was very well thought out, she'd give him that, but it wasn't flawless. He was foolish to put his trust in such a pitiful excuse for a wizard._

_ Serves him right, she thought bitterly. He deserved everything he got after what he did. He betrayed them all, leaving like he did. She never did understand his motives. He could have had everything. A nice sized house, no doubt a beautiful wife of noble background, and of course plenty of money. So why?_

_ "Stupid Gryffindor," she spat venomously. "Had to go play himself off as a poor, defenseless victim, whose parents never cared for him. Curse him, curse them all."_

_She went back to her window. There was his star shining down upon her, twinkling mockingly at her, bright as ever. Her mother had told her once that the Blacks where tied to their namesakes, their stars. She never believed it though. She didn't indulge in nonsense like that. Nevertheless she did devout a considerable amount of respect to her namesake, always watching for it and gazing at it for a considerable amount of time before moving on to the others. Maybe that was what gave him strength, though she doubted that he took to such things either. Still he always did like pointing out that fact that his star was indeed the brightest._

_"There it is," he'd say, "the brightest one up there. What number is yours again? The twenty-second?"_

_"Well at least I'm not a disgusting dog!" she'd counter. That would always shut him up._

_ No, he never could beat her. That didn't stop him from trying though. It was ridiculous really. He'd deal the first blow, but she'd always hit him harder. It never failed. _

_ She looked at him again. A pathetic little lump in the corner of his cage. How like a dog, she thought ironically._

_ A small part of her, very small mind you, almost felt bad for him. She dismissed the idea immediately, scolding herself for letting her shields down. Still... he never did anything except try to help a friend, and that got him a comfy, cozy cell in Azkaban. _

_ She didn't admire his so called bravery, nor did she pity him. She thought him a fool, as always. A fool for letting his emotions get in the way. A fool for sacrificing himself for someone of such little importance as Potter. A fool for giving up everything he had, for a muggle lover, a half breed, and a near squib. There was no need to dwell on it anymore. She had made her decision. To her there was no more Sirius Black. He was dead to her, and there was no saving him._


End file.
